


Home

by peteor



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Business Trip, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 17:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peteor/pseuds/peteor
Summary: Church sits out on the balcony in his hotel room, struggling to light a cigarette in the late-night breeze. Ever since landing this morning, he’s been frantically ushered from meeting to meeting, and has had no time to sit down and relax since his fifteen minute lunch break.And while Beijing is nice, Church has only been here a day and he’s already homesick. He checks his watch. Wash should be awake, he could call him. But… he’s worried calling him would only make him even more depressed.So, with a sigh, he clicks his phone off and pockets it. Then he proceeds to suck on his cigarette and stare out at the beautiful view of the foreign city laid out in front of him. And, listen, most of the time? He can appreciate how lucky he is to be here, in this fancy hotel, on the opposite side of the world, representing his entire company.But right now he just wants to go home.--the fic where church goes away for a month





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> this is part of an AU i haven't posted for yet, but it can be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> obligatory brief AU description: wash is an ex-marine and had to get an above-the-knee amputation. he was honourably discharged. church is a business partner in his dad's company and yeah they're rich. there's a line that references a fire - some time before this fic, their house burned down, and wash barely survived.
> 
> anyway, all this fic is is me being in the mood to write churchwash schmoop, so... enjoy.

Church sits out on the balcony in his hotel room, struggling to light a cigarette in the late-night breeze. Ever since landing this morning, he’s been frantically ushered from meeting to meeting, and has had no time to sit down and relax since his fifteen minute lunch break.

And while Beijing is nice, Church has only been here a day and he’s already homesick. He checks his watch. Wash should be awake, he could call him. But… he’s worried calling him would only make him even more depressed.

So, with a sigh, he clicks his phone off and pockets it. Then he proceeds to suck on his cigarette and stare out at the beautiful view of the foreign city laid out in front of him. And, listen, most of the time? He can appreciate how lucky he is to be here, in this fancy hotel, on the opposite side of the world, representing his entire company.

But right now he just wants to go home.

With a pout, he puts his finished cigarette in the ashtray, and then saunters back inside. He avoids looking at the bed - the empty, cold, meticulously made bed - for as long as he can. He strips down to his underwear, brushes his teeth, takes his meds, and then fires off some last-minute emails at the hotel desk.

Right as he’s trying to force himself to climb into bed, his phone on the night stand starts buzzing. Church dives onto the bed and picks up his phone, laughing breathily when he sees Wash's smiling face on the incoming call screen.

“Hey,” Church says, and even though he tries to put some cheer in his voice, he’s tired and depressed and Wash has known him for far too long to be fooled by it.

“Hi there,” is Wash’s voice, tinny and far away - across the _world_ \- and Church sighs audibly. “Long day?”

“Yeah,” Church replies, adjusting his sitting position so his back is up against the headboard and his knees are drawn up to his chest. “I miss you.”

“It’s been one day,” Wash says, tone a mix of concern and condescension.

“Two, technically,” Church mumbles, narrowing his eyes at the far wall. “With travel time included.”

And it’s silly, stupid, completely ridiculous, but the sound of Wash’s static-filled sigh from the other line is such a familiar sound that it has Church’s eyes filling with tears.

And when Wash, after a pause, quietly admits, “I miss you too,” the dam breaks.

Tears spill down Church’s cheeks, and he sniffles and wipes at his nose. Wash hears the sounds of Church’s crying, because of course he does, and says, “You pushed yourself too hard today, didn’t you.”

It’s not a question, so Church doesn’t answer it. He just takes a deep, shuddering breath, and replies, “Life sucks, Wash.”

A pause.

“Well, can’t argue that,” is Wash’s far-too-amused-for-the-situation-at-hand reply. “You need to take it easy, Church. We both know you don’t handle jet lag too well. Your business partners all know it, too, probably, with how much you bitch about it all the time.”

Church scoffs and wipes his eyes, biting his lip to keep from smiling, because nobody on this earth should be able to make him smile while insulting him. That's just not fair. “Hey, I have to be _professional_ around my business partners. I save all my bitching for you.”

“How kind of you,” Wash deadpans. “I feel so special.”

Church wiggles down the bed, so soon, he’s laying on his back, head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “How’re things there?”

“Same old,” Wash replies nonchalantly. “Just sitting down here with breakfast, cats are eating, dog is outside, fish are swimming, plants are… photosynthesizing.”

Church snickers. “Nice day?”

A pause, which Church assumes is Wash looking out a window, because then he comes back with, “Very nice. I’m hoping it’ll _stay_ nice, since I’ve got a lot of work to do that I’ve been putting off because of a very obnoxious husband of mine who needs attention every five seconds.”

“You’re a dick,” Church snaps. “Here I am, on the opposite side of the world, crying because I’m depressed and lonely and miss my husband, and you’re being snarky.”

“Quit the pity party,” Wash says exasperatedly, and Church can almost picture the eye-roll. “Just take care of yourself. You’re there for one month, not one week. You’re allowed to pace yourself.”

“Oh yeah? What if I told you I’m _already_ pacing myself?”

“I would call bullshit,” Wash replies flatly.

Pause. And then Church sighs, “Yeah, alright, you win.”

“Of course I do. I always do.”

“Prick.”

“You insult me because you have no other argument and know it’s true.”

“Stop reading my fucking mind, it’s creepy,” Church says through a yawn. “Aren’t I supposed to be the people person in this relationship?”

“Well, knowing fewer people means I get to pay more attention to the ones I _do_ know,” Wash explains, that playfully condescending note back in his tone. Church yawns again, and Wash says, after a pause, “Go to sleep, Church.”

“No,” Church says just for the sake of arguing.

“Church.”

Church’s sigh peters off into a groan, muffled as he rolls onto his side and squishes his face into the pillow. “I hate my life.”

“Okay, that’s fine, but you still need to sleep,” Wash deadpans. “And I have to go take your dog for a walk before she tears up the backyard.”

“Fuck you, I’m more important than my shitty dog.”

“You love that dog.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

“That’s a lie.”

“…Yeah, you’re right. I love her way more. Fuck you.”

“Good _night_ , Church,” Wash says sternly.

Church yawns again, and then says, “Yeah, goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Wash says, voice soft once again. “Talk to you soon.”

—

It’s easy to pretend that Church is still in town during the day. Wash just does what he always does when Church is at the office all day. Eats his breakfast, takes K-9 - their doberman - out for a jog, comes home and feeds the fish and waters the plants, and then… does whatever.

Today, it’s housework. Well, every day it’s housework - they have a big house that constantly needs to be clean and Wash is the stay-at-home husband married to a workaholic, so it usually falls on him - but today, it’s the more gruelling housework.

The kind of housework that a man with only one leg would be advised to ask for help with, but if Wash could do it by himself before the accident, he’ll be damned if he can’t afterwards.

So he gets to work. Pulls out the ladder, toolbox, lawnmower. It’s early in spring, and that means it’s time to get the yard into shape, clean the gutters, inspect the outdoor furniture, maybe do some landscaping, but Wash figures he’ll save that for when Doc and Donut come by next week.

Regardless, he keeps himself busy during the day.

And the next day.   


And the day after.

Business as usual, except an odd, dull atmosphere has draped itself over the household. K-9 sits by the front window every day, perking up whenever she sees anyone, only to whine and settle back down when they don't stop in front of the house.

Church’s hairless cat, Shithead, is almost always hiding, only slinking out into the open for his breakfast and dinner. Their other cats, Ari and Skyler, seem to be coping. But Wash has seen Ari curled up by the front door multiple times, no doubt waiting for her favourite playmate to come home.

Wash talks to Church every day, sometimes even twice a day. But their conversations, like they always are on business trips, are less casual banter and more of Church venting about all the work he’s doing, and Wash keeping him updated on things at home.

Wash misses him. Terribly.

It never quite hits him until he’s climbing into bed alone at night. And really, even then, he’s somewhat used to that. While Church loves spending as much time with Wash as possible, he does have to stay late at the office quite often.

But it’s when he wakes up, either from a nightmare or just because, and he’s still alone. Two, three, four in the morning.

It’s when he gets out of bed at six in the morning and sits out in the backyard smoking a cigarette or seven, watching the sunrise alone, knowing it’s nearly setting over in Beijing.

That’s when it sinks in. Wash is so, unbelievably in love with his husband, and would miss him as much as he’d miss oxygen if he were to ever lose him. This month crawls by slowly, Wash counting down the days - hours, minutes, seconds, if he’s stressed out enough - until Church’s flight home touches ground.

“Two weeks down, two to go,” is the first thing Church says to Wash when Wash calls him on Sunday morning. In an oddly cheerful tone, words slurring together slightly, and…

“Church, are you drunk?”

“Little bit,” Church giggles, then Wash hears the bounce of mattress springs and a pleasant sigh from Church. “Man. What a day.”

“Tell me about it,” Wash says as he stirs his eggs around in the pan.

So Church goes off about everything that happened that day, leaving no detail out. Wash listens, though admittedly, less for the story and more for just the sound of Church’s voice. He puts his phone on speaker and sets it on the counter while he arranges his breakfast on a plate and carries both items over to the table, settling down as Church carries on and on seemingly without taking a breath.

The story ends with a bar and vodka shots, so Wash mentally switches Church’s ‘little bit’ drunk to ‘lotta bit’ drunk. If only Wash could see him, he could tell. He closes his eyes, and the corner of his lip quirks up in amusement as he pictures Church excitedly telling Wash about his day, cheeks flushed and eyes unfocused but bright.

Maybe his hair is a little bit tousled. Maybe he’s got that lopsided smile on his face that he only gets once he’s got five or more beers in him. Maybe he got too drunk for contacts so has his glasses on now, slightly tilted on the bridge of his nose, a smudge in the top right corner that never seems to go away but somehow doesn’t bother him at all.

“I miss you,” Wash says softly, interrupting Church halfway through a sentence.

“Wash…”

“I miss you so much,” Wash continues, rubbing his forehead and staring down at the breakfast he’s lost the appetite for. “I know I have no right to- I mean, I was gone for _months_ back when I was in the military. But it’s- it’s _scaring me_ , how much I miss you. …It’s scaring me.”

Church blows a raspberry and then sighs. “I miss you too. It’s no fun getting drunk when I can’t curl up on your lap and make out with you later.”

Wash laughs. “Then why did you get drunk?”

Church ignores him. “Remember our anniversary last year? When we got drunk off wine like idiots, and you showed me your ‘sweet dance moves’ while I played the piano really badly?”

“I do remember that.”

“Sometimes I get scared about how much I love you,” Church says, then yawns before continuing. “I saw the aftermath of Allison’s death, what it did to my dad, and I think it fucked me up a lot. So loving you, even… even _more_ than my dad loved Allison, I think. Shit’s scary, man, ‘cause you know, life happens. I could have lost you every time you got deployed. I could have lost you in the fire.”

A pause.

“I… had a point to this,” Church mumbles. “But I’m kinda, uh, intoxicated, so, uh. Kinda forgot.”

Wash chuckles. “It’s fine.”

“Nah, nah, just lemme- oh, yeah, okay, got it,” Church says quickly. “My point is, like, I think, y’know, remembering nights like that - like our anniversary - it like… helps me feel less scared of this… commitment and shit. ‘Cause I think, like… I dunno. Those memories are worth everything that life’ll throw at us.”

Wash smiles. “Since when did Drunk Church become a fountain of wisdom?”

“Drunk Church has _always_ been a fountain of wisdom, asshole,” Church mutters. “His mouth is just usually too busy doing better things whenever he’s around you. Like suckin’ your dick.”

Wash feels his cheeks grow hot. “You’re shameless.”

Church snickers. “I can fuckin’ picture your. Dumb, stupid, modest schoolgirl blushy face right now.”

“Shut up,” Wash snaps, unable to keep the smile off his face and out of his tone. “Go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m gonna,” Church huffs. “I’m fuckin’ tired. Long day. Goodnight.”

Wash smiles. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Church sighs into the phone, voice barely audible.

Wash sighs when, soon after Church speaks, soft snoring sounds fill his ear. He hangs up and shakes his head with a smile.

“Idiot.”

—

Church calls Wash as he packs his suitcase, his phone tucked to his ear with his shoulder as he uses both hands to fold his clothes up.

“Hey,” Wash says, a smile in his voice. “Are you all packed up?”

“Eeeeeeh,” Church replies. “Working on it. What did you get up to today?”

“Nothing much. Tex is in town, so we’re going out for a ride this evening. Spent today tuning up the bike, and I found…”

Church listens to Wash go on about his day. His voice is peaceful, pausing occasionally to take bites of his lunch, and Church can almost picture him if he concentrates. Sitting there at the table, munching on a salad or something. And fruit, Wash’s little treat to himself, because according to him, fruit has a lot of sugar in it. But Church calls bullshit, because how can fruit be bad for you?

“You know what, fuck you,” Church snaps, interrupting Wash.

The distant sound of a fork clicking on a plate, and then Wash’s confused voice, “…What?”

“I’m picturing you sitting there eating your stupid fruit,” Church explains. “And I realized you totally ruined fruit for me, because whenever I eat fruit now, your annoying voice is in the back of my mind telling me about all the sugar I'm eating. Fucking fruit statistics, Washington. That’s what my life has come to. And it’s your fault.”

A long pause.

Church grins when Wash starts laughing.

After a minute of uncontrollable, wheezing laughter, Wash manages to say, “You… are ridiculous.”

“Fuck you, I’m amazing,” Church says. “It’s _you_ who’s the ridiculous one.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

Church replies, “Don’t patronize me.”

“Okay, dear,” Wash says. Patronizingly.

“What are you, drunk?” Church laughs awkwardly, rubbing his flushed cheek. “What’s with the pet names?”

Wash chuckles. “Aw, you’re flustered now, aren’t you? That’s sweet.”

“Okay, so _you’re_ in a mood,” Church says with a roll of his eyes.

There’s a smile and a giddy tone in Wash’s voice when he says, “I’m excited to see you.”

“You know if you’re this goofy with Tex later, she’s probably gonna punch you, right?”

“Mmmmmmm, probably,” Wash says, then giggles. Literally giggles.

Church is getting concerned. “Are you sure you’re not drunk, Wash?”

“Yes, I’m sure I’m not drunk,” Wash deadpans, sounding more like himself. “… _but_ …”

“If you say ‘I'm drunk on your love,’ I _might_ divorce you,” Church says.

“Oh no,” Wash says, not sounding afraid at all. “The divorce threat. I have never heard that one before. I actually believe that’s a possibility. What will I do. How will I go on.”

Church narrows his eyes. “Smartass.”

Wash laughs. “I love you. I can’t wait for you to come home.”

“I can’t wait, either,” Church sighs, a small smile growing on his face. “I love you so much.”

Church knows that this sappy back-and-forth isn’t always their norm, and absence makes the heart grow fonder. When he gets back, they’ll fall into their usual routines; their sometimes-not-so-friendly banter. Wash will get mad at Church for leaving the lights on all night, Church will get mad at Wash for sleeping in too late, and the list will go on.

But right now, and always, Church _does_ love Wash so much. He’s happy with him; even when they bicker, even when things are rough, Church loves Wash more than anything. And it’s getting easier and easier for Church to convince himself that Wash loves him that much, too.

So when he gets to the airport, he gives a big goodbye and middle finger to Beijing. Because he’s going home. Back to his husband, his home, his family.

—

Wash yawns, his vision blurring as he squints down at his novel, adjusting his glasses with a frustrated noise. But it’s not his glasses that’s the problem, he’s just… tired. With a sigh, he closes the book and sets it aside, standing up and checking his watch. Only half an hour…

He grabs his phone, hoodie, and cigarettes and goes out to the front porch. The dog and even the cats are all at attention, following him around curiously. They can probably sense his energy - his excitement.

“Don’t worry, Church is coming home,” he tells K-9, scratching behind her ears as he slips into his sandals. “Just a little while.”

Sitting outside, every sound of a car has him perking up. He'd offered to pick Church up from the airport, but since he’d driven to the office before his flight and would have to drive there tomorrow, he insisted on getting a cab to the city and picking up his car.

It upsets Wash that Church is going to be at the office tomorrow. He hasn’t seen his husband in a month, and Church has been working nonstop in Beijing during that time. But he supposes a multi-million dollar company doesn’t give its executives time off to spend cuddling with their partners.

Wash wouldn’t know, he’s never been part of that world. All he can do is sit on the sidelines of it and wait for Church to get a rare break.

He’ll have a break tonight. They’ll have tonight. After an entire month, Wash gets a night with his husband, and _that’s_ what matters more than anything.

He finishes two cigarettes and checks his watch again. Almost three o’clock. Church said he’d be home around then…

And then Wash sees, at the end of the road, a pair of headlights heading his way. They live in a quiet suburb, where cars are rarely out this late, so Wash feels his heart swell in his chest, hope shortening his breath.

Sure enough, Church’s Mercedes comes into view and pulls into the driveway, and Wash jumps up and grins wider than he has in weeks. Church, who usually puts his car into the garage, usually takes a while to get all his things together, dives out of the car faster than lightning and sprints up the porch.

Wash collects Church into his arms without a word, squeezing him tight in his arms, face buried in his hair. He feels Church’s arms around his waist, Church’s chest against his chest, Church’s breath on the collar of Wash’s shirt. He missed it so much - missed _Church_ so much - that he feels tears spring to his eyes.

Church leans back and Wash moves his hands from Church’s back, to his shoulders, to his cheeks, and then pulls him in for a kiss. Passion grows in a lump in his throat as Church laughs breathily against Wash’s lips, moving his mouth against them, his fingertips trailing along Wash’s jaw and tangling up in his wavy hair.

The both part, laughing, when they hear K-9 barking and the cats meowing from the foyer. Clearly, they must sense Church is home. Wash keeps a hold on him, though, hands now at the back of Church’s neck, their foreheads pressed together.

“I missed you,” Wash whispers, voice breaking, feeling slightly embarrassed at the tightness of his throat and the tears in his eyes.

But Church’s voice is equally as giddy and quiet, his eyes equally filled with tears, when he gives Wash a quick peck on the lips and says, “I missed you too.”

“So did they,” Wash says, nodding towards the front door, where the animals are still making a ruckus.

“Clearly.”

“Ready to brave the storm?”

Church smiles and hugs Wash tight again, burying his face into the crook of Wash’s neck. “Yeah, let’s go inside.”

—

Hugging Wash on the front porch was the greatest feeling ever, but a close second is when Church and Wash go inside, hands clasped together, and Church is immediately assaulted by his animals - K-9 especially.

Church laughs and goes down on his one knee, hugging her tight and biting his lip as she licks his cheek and nuzzles the side of his head. Their kitten, Ari, is also excited, mewling lightly and pawing at Church’s knee, braving the chaos of K-9 to search for attention.

Church gives it to her, pushing K-9 away lightly and picking up the little kitten, holding her tight in his arms and kissing her forehead. She purrs, cuddling into his chest, and Church looks up at Wash with a smile, who mirrors it.

Then Church looks up and sees Skyler and Shithead both standing farther out. Skyler’s yowling and waiting for pets, while Shithead is literally glaring at Church.

Church huffs and stands up, giving Ari to Wash and shushing K-9, who’s panting excitedly, tail wagging. He approaches the two older cats, and pouts when Shithead turns and sprints away, meowing like he’d just been stabbed, because he’s a melodramatic asshole.

Skyler, surprisingly, actually approaches Church, giving a disdainful look at K-9 before being distracted by Church picking him up and giving him a scratch on his neck.

“The way they act, you’d think you neglected them,” Church teases Wash, who narrows his eyes.

“No, they just all like you more,” Wash says, indignation in his tone.

Church laughs and sets Skyler down, turning to Wash and kissing him hard and deep while he takes his shoes off, his hand on Wash’s shoulder for balance. Wash tilts his head and leans into the kiss, shifting Ari to one arm so he can put his hand firmly on Church’s hip.

“Do you think Shithead will forgive me?” Church asks when they part, unable to help his smile when their noses bump together, Wash exhaling the smell of cigarettes and coffee against his face.

“I think he’ll find it in him,” Wash replies. “Do you want me to go get your bags, give you time with the animals?”

“My bags can wait,” Church says immediately, standing back as Wash lets Ari down. Then he presses himself up against Wash again, walking him backwards into the foyer wall. He kisses Wash’s neck, under the corner of his jaw, and then says, “I don’t want to let you out of my sight until morning.”

“Technically, it’s already morning,” Wash says. Church glares at him, and Wash chuckles. “Kidding, I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re right,” Church sighs, slumping forward against Wash, his body heat pleasant. “I should go get my briefcase, at least. But if you think either of us are getting to sleep without at least some very heavy making out, you’re gonna have to think again.”

Wash laughs. “Whatever you say.”

—

Wash spends the time Church takes getting his things from the car looking for Shithead. But that cat is hard to find in a small room for someone who can easily crouch down and look under things, and Wash is a one-legged man with chronic pain in a large house. So, unfortunately, Wash can’t find the moody cat.

He gives up and goes to their bedroom when he hears Church come back inside. He hangs his hoodie up in the closet and strips his pajama pants in order to pull off his prosthetic.

Right as he’s climbing into bed, Church enters the room, carrying his briefcase and smaller carry-on suitcase.

“Valuables are safe,” Church says, holding up both bags. “Also, car’s in the garage. Your motorcycle’s dirty as shit by the way, where did you and Tex go?"

“Out and about,” Wash replies, lifting the blanket for Church, who takes off his clothes and climbs into bed in his boxers and undershirt. “It rained last night, and you know how Tex likes her dirt roads.”

Church shudders. “You know, the fact that you can keep up with her makes me concerned for your safety. Riding with Tex is one of the few times I’ve seen my life flash before my eyes.”

Wash laughs and kisses Church, trailing his hand over his hip and up his spine, feeling Church relax against Wash, draping his arm over Wash’s waist. “Have you considered that, maybe, you’re just a baby?”

Church huffs, pushing himself into Wash until Wash rolls onto his back, Church climbing onto him and straddling his hips. Then he leans down and kisses Wash, and Wash takes in the feeling of Church on top of him, hands on his chest, hair tickling his closed eyelids.

A crackly meow from the door, and then a light weight on the bed. Wash and Church stop kissing and look over at Shithead, who is sitting at the edge of the bed staring at Church.

Church smiles and holds his hand out expectantly, and sure enough, Shithead walks over and headbutts Church’s fingers. Wash reaches up and puts his hand over Church’s free hand, that’s still on his chest. Church doesn’t take his eyes off Shithead, but does lift his fingers so Wash can tuck his own fingers underneath them, holding his hand tight.

“Welcome home,” Wash says, because he’d forgotten to say it earlier in all the excitement.

Church stops petting Shithead and turns back to Wash, his face soft, lips parted. Wash sees tears shining in his eyes in the dim bedroom light, and feels those same tears on his cheeks as they start kissing again, Wash lightly running his hands through his hair.

“Still don’t handle jet lag well, do you?” Wash asks when his lips are free, Church slumped against him, his head on his chest.

Church sniffles and shakes his head. “I’m never leaving for that long again.”

Wash frowns. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

A pause, and then Church wiggles off of Wash. Wash holds his arm out for Church to lay on, and rolls onto his side once Church is settled. Their foreheads brush, and Wash feels Church’s cold feet wrap around his leg. Church wipes his eyes and breathes a wet laugh, sniffling.

“I have to go to work tomorrow,” Church says miserably.

“You do.”

Wash sees Shithead walk up and sit on Church’s other side, his head plopping down on Church’s waist, eyes closing shut slowly, the way cats do. Church smiles, breath evening out, eyes closed.

“You going to sleep?” Wash asks, petting his hair softly.

Church nods. “I forgot how comfortable our bed was. And you. You’re comfortable, too. Makes me feel safe, y’know?”

“I know,” Wash says, kissing Church’s forehead. “You make me feel safe, too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A ghost of a smile on Church's face, and then he’s gone. Wash closes his eyes and feels Church; the weight of his head on Wash’s arm, the sound of his breathing, the way his foot twitches against Wash’s calf every once in a while.

Even the sound of Shithead’s purring is calming to Wash, since Shithead refuses to sleep with Wash himself, only Church. So hearing him is more proof that when Wash closes his eyes, Church is still here, in his arms.

Safe.

Home.


End file.
